I found an unopened pound of coffee, several cans of corned beef, a box of crackers, and some jam. I stared at it. I could hide out here for days.

In a few minutes I was drinking scalding black coffee and eating cold corned beef out of the can. I felt a lot better. Pouring another cup of coffee, I dropped a slug of bourbon in it, lighted a cigarette, and carried it out into the living room to explore the place.

Before the fireplace, on a shaggy white rug, was a long coffee table covered with glass. In back of it was a studio couch, and at one end a chaise longue, both covered with that same wine-red corduroy I’d seen on the bed in the other room. There was a bridge lamp and a small magazine stand at one end of the couch. The floor was rubber-tiled, and in the center of the room was an oval braided rug some eight feet long. Because of the heavy drapes there was still very little light, and it was intensely silent except for the soft and almost soothing sound of the rain.

Near the front window was a large oak desk and a swivel chair. At one end of it was a typewriter stand on which was a covered typewriter. A shaded lamp was suspended from the ceiling above it. There were several books on the desk and a stack of papers held down by an onyx paperweight. In the corner was a small gas heater. The whole wall beside the desk was lined with bookshelves, and near the door going out into the kitchen and dining area was a small table on which was a telephone and a radio in a white plastic case. I went over and turned on the radio, just clicking the switch but leaving the gain all the way down. The pilot light glowed. Maybe I could get some news. I looked at my watch. It had stopped; I’d forgotten to wind it.

Then I was struck by an odd thought. If this were a summer cottage closed for the season, why were the gas, water, and electricity still turned on? Suddenly I heard a car going past outside. I stepped quickly to the front window and pulled the edge of the curtain back just enough to peer out. It was a yellow school bus.

I could see nothing of the cottage next to this one, or in fact any of those on this side, but some hundred yards on down the puddled and rainswept road there was one on the other side. Apparently there were people living in it now. The school bus turned around there and stopped. Two small children in yellow raincoats and hats came out and got in. The bus came back. I let the curtain drop back in place and heard it go on by and fade away. I was just about to turn away from the window when I heard something else. It was another one, passing slowly in the opposite direction. I parted the curtain again and froze.

It was a police cruiser and it was stopping.